Listen
by ashestoashesanddusttodust
Summary: Abstergo was looking for results, and grew tired of being held back by the limitations of fragile humans. Desmond has zero choice in anything anymore.


**Listen  
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**A Word**: Kink prompt asking for some comfort for a Desmond who was put in a coma from the beginning and never taken out. Unable to leave the Animus he can hear the people around him but not talk back to them. Only live through the memories.

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Desmond barely has to do any work to keep the synchronization up. Something about being in a coma makes any conscious choice from him nearly impossible while the Animus program is being run. He's _tried_, many times, and it's only when the Animus is in standby that Desmond can move around freely. The loading screen, unmonitored as far as he can tell, is easy to manipulate on his own and builds the worlds he wants with ease. The second a memory is actually loaded up it all disappears, and then Desmond is just along for the ride as someone else moves what he still thinks should be his body.

An oddity going by what he's learned from the audio clips that have started showing up more frequently since he's been moved from Altair's life to Ezio's. Subject 16's voice is familiar by now as he rambles on about the things he saw. It's half story time with the insane man, and half disturbing horror movie moments when the pre-recorded ramblings actually seem to _answer_ him when he can't help but speak up.

It's a bit worrying that 16's starting to make more and more sense the longer Desmond is locked into the Animus. He's read up on the Bleeding Effect through the database in the long stretches of time between memories he's being given now that he's out of Abstergo's obvious hold.

He'd tried so hard to wake up during that rescue. Tried to open his eyes, move a finger, do _something_ when he was finally disconnected from the Animus and his body hauled away under a hail of bullets. Lucy's fingers digging hard into his left arm with each scream. Not letting up even as he was shoved into some vehicle that squealed as it sped away. He could almost feel her eyes fix on him, hear her breath evening with relief the longer he couldn't wake up.

That stretch of time was the worst thing he's gone through yet. Desmond had been stuck in his head for the entirety of it. A world of darkness with the sound of the world the only thing he could cling to. The hum of an engine, the crunch of tires, and the too low murmur of people talking. No one offering up any information to him once Lucy moved away. It might have been days, or maybe hours. Desmond's grasp of time was nonexistent without the desktop of the Animus to keep him grounded. He lost track of transfers and how many people were around him before they appeared to have reached their destination.

Getting back into the Animus had been a relief. Grounding him into an interface that was new but familiar all the same. Rebecca's voice had been proud as she explained her Baby to Lucy over the snarky interruptions of Shaun. Two new people that Desmond has grown to know as he's pushed through Ezio's life at a slow pace that's almost maddening after the rapid fire of Altair's life. He'd protest, but the new machine isn't any better than the old at allowing him to reach out.

It's obvious no one realizes exactly how much of the real world he's aware of. If they were, they'd never say the things they say to him.

Lucy talks to him daily. Before the others have finished breakfast and after they've retired for the night. Staying with his body past midnight some days just to talk. Desmond's not sure how he feels about that though. He knows she was sent in as a double agent, and that she went native on the Assassins. He's not really surprised by that, Lucy had explained herself once when Vidic was taking a long time coming back from some meeting. The kind of isolation she'd been put in must have sounded good on paper, but it's obvious to him that if you don't give someone _something_ to hold onto they'll go looking for something better.

And for Lucy, that something had been Vidic who was proud of her and praised her. Treated her like a human being, and Desmond knows all too well how very much people will do for that kind of treatment.

She doesn't talk to him about Abstergo or the Templars anymore, not willing to risk being found out perhaps, but she still keeps him updated on the events in the world. The big things and little things. It's a lifeline as much now as it was the first three times she ran him through Altair's memories in one long, uninterrupted session that nearly made him beg for death to the white screen that wouldn't understand the command. Vidic's insistence they make sure they missed nothing waring with her cautious reminders of Desmond's health. Reminders that she never really tried to insist on too firmly.

Lucy tells him about the things they're going to try to bring him out of his coma, but Desmond doesn't bother hoping they'll work. Lucy _put_ him down, and she's not very likely to let him come back up before Vidic's goons can track them down. She can bring him out any time she wants to really. It's just easier to manipulate an unconscious subject. Desmond forces himself to remember that even as Lucy talks about breakfast over the clicking of keys as she sets up the first session of the morning. She cares about him, he can hear that in her voice, but it really doesn't mean much when she's not going to do a damn thing to help him.

He's seen some of the fragmented files left by 16. He's read the email she left for him. Apologizing even as she told him she couldn't let him live. Desmond doesn't think saying sorry really comforted him much when he opened up his veins in the cell Desmond never got to see.

"Someone's been eating all of my yoghurt," Lucy says and the bar he'd been lounging around in fades as the loading screen reasserts itself around him. The countdown for the memory starting up slowly. "I think it's Rebecca."

It's Shaun, actually. The man is a restless sleeper and often comes in to the room Desmond is in to work at odd hours. He rarely says what he's actually doing, but he is oddly proud to share his exploits in yoghurt theft with him. It fits with what he's learned of the man from the database he keeps updated, despite the fact that Desmond's pretty sure none of them think he uses it. Which might be why some of the database entries read more like personal reminders than an actual guide to help him navigate the memories he has no control over.

"We good to go?" Rebecca's voice echoes oddly before he can hear the scuff of her shoes. Cool fingers wrap around his wrist. She's the only one who touches him. It's a bit distant, like he's feeling it through three or four layers of clothing. It fades if he doesn't pay attention to it. Like the feeling of the cushioned surface he's on, the scratch of his clothing, and the prick of the needle in his arm that's never removed.

He focuses on Rebecca's fingers as they go through the usual routine. Checking whatever it is they need to check as the loading screen morphs around Desmond. Stone streets pebbling up and code spiraling up into buildings. Italy growing around him as he slowly spins to take it all in. Listening to the others murmur around him and not looking at his hand so that he can pretend they're right behind him. That Rebecca is holding his hand and seeing this too. That Lucy is pacing back and forth on the street while Shaun complains about the lack of butter.

It's almost enough to make it bearable when the memory loads and his control is yanked away from him. When he sinks beneath Ezio and his quest for vengeance.

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End file.
